It's me again, your secret Seasonnaire fresh from the seafaring antics of Salcombe and Cowes Week. It was wet, wild, and riotous fun - boats heeling upwind in the water, people heeling downwind at the bar. It turns out docking and drinking is definitely a thing.

I caught up on all the action from HMS Jack, our 007-esque 6-metre RIB, pimped up and customised for us by RIBeye. My motto for the week? 'Drive it like you stole it.' Keep an eye out for me up and down the south coast this summer - I'm giving out free beer, so it will definitely be worth your while…

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You may think that messing around on boats at regattas is all plain sailing. But each port has its own nuances and quirks. The yachties and yachts are the same, the vibe is anything but. To make sure you don't socially capsize, I've prepared a helpful little guide based on my own experience…

Surviving Salcombe

If you don't have a boat, befriend someone who does.

If you don't have a dog, borrow one.

Because, really, in Salcombe, you're nobody without a boat or a dog.

And, for goodness' sake, don't admit that you don't have a house in town. Here locals rule, everyone knows everyone and blow-ins are just about tolerated.

Style is preppy, relaxed, 'I've just nonchalantly hopped off my boat for a sec' vibe. Which should come as no surprise. Jack Wills was born here. And everyone worships at that altar.

If you overhear people say that it's rough at the bar, they don't mean skirmishes and fisticuffs in the pub - it's the sandbank running across the estuary.

I got my après-sea on at the Ferry Inn. I suggest you do the same. It overlooks the water and is a hive of rollicking regatta activity.

Conquering Cowes

This is serious sailing. And serious people-watching. Think London-on-Sea for one week only.

If you're completely green, just try and get through the day without being clattered by the boom (that big swingy thing in the middle of the boat), getting caught up in a sheet (sheets are ropes; perfectly acceptable to get caught up in a bed sheet with someone later) or vomming.

If you are going to vom, for heaven's sake, do so downwind - there's nothing worse than blowback.

If you survive a maiden voyage unmortified, why not replace sea legs with rum legs to celebrate?

The Pop Up 151 Mount Gay Rum party is the ultimate place to be. Forecast? Dark 'n' stormy and short tacking all the way home.

Sparks fly. And not just at the bar either. There's a fireworks and Red Arrows display. Really. Free drinks on me if you pull a pilot - because they do come ashore afterwards. (Get in the queue.)